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THUMB-NAIL SKETCHES 



cJ liumh-iiaii 
^kctclicd 

By ^ 

GEORGE WHARTON EDWARDS 



NEW YORK 

THE CENTURY CO. 

1893 



-^ 



^nrfl) 



THE LIBRARY 
or C OMPR ESS 

WASHINGTON 



Copyright, 1891, 1892, 1893, 
By The Century Co. 









THE DE VINNE PRESS. 



* '■Be bold, my book, and do not fear 
The cutting TJmmb-nail 
Or the brow severe.''^ 



HERRICK S HESPERIUES. 



CONTENTS 

MOGLASHEN i 

THE CLAVECIN, BRUGES . 27 

THE COFFEE-HOUSE, 

MAARKEN 47 

''STRANGE TO SAY" . 05 

A FETE DAY AND EVENING 
IN A DUTCH TOWN . 91 



MOGLASHEN 



THUMB-NAIL 
SKETCHES 

MOGLASHEN 

Some one said 
that I should 
visit Beg Island 
while at Ingon- 
ish. But the ad- 
vice made but 
little impression upon my mind 
at the time. In clear weather 
it might be seen from the shore, 
its shape resembling a squatty 
sugar-loaf upon the horizon. 

One morning from my perch 
in the rocks, where I had se- 
curely fastened my canvas with 
ropes and boulders, — for the 
wind ever blows in this lati- 




tude, — I became conscious of 

the approaching figure of a man 

^ leaping from rock 

^^»j to rock, his arms 

-(^^mS waving wildly with 

jmjSP the exertion. Evi- 

^1^1 dently he was head- 

'^^M'-'-'" ed for the spot which 

^^^m ' I occupied. 

-nB "^^v I fancied that he 

Jt-. had some message 
.._ ' from the village for 

me, perhaps a letter; but a mo- 
ment's reflection showed me 
that the semi- weekly mail was 
not due before the following day. 

As he climbed the boulders 
I could see his face, a red dot 
in the center of a bushy growth 
of sandy whiskers which stood 
out in all directions. 

Panting for breath, he 
reached the spot where I sat, 
and bounced himself down be- 
side me at the risk of upsetting 
my color-box. 

Cocking his head upon one 



side, and rubbing upon his 
trousers the hand which he had 
placed directly in the center of 
my well-covered palette, he 
ejaculated admiringly, with a 
sweep of the clean hand, " Hech, 
mon, but she '11 be a fine 
peentin' ye 're at." 

" Yes ? " said I, with an ill- 
suppressed smile at his predica- 
ment. " How did you know I 
was out here ? " 

"Aw '11 be speerin' you aff- 
shoor, an' the hale popilation 
kens what ye 're at, an' whaur 
ye are tae, for that matter ; but 
d' ye see ? ye 're wastin' ye'r 
time here. This '11 no be place 
for the peentin', aw '11 be sayin' 
to masel' comin' o'er, whan 
she '11 have Beg Islan'. D' ye 
ken Beg Islan' ? " 

" Oh, yes," I said, taking up 
my palette and endeavoring to 
repair the havoc his hand had 
wrought ; " I know of it ; at 
least I 've heard of it." 

5 



" Of coorse ye '11 hae heard 
of it, as well as them that be- 
longs te it, the Moglashens. 
Aw 'II be a Moglashen-, d' ye 
ken ? an', what 's more, aw en- 
vite ye te stop wi' us o'er te Beg 
Islan'," he said, wiping his per- 
spiring forehead with the painty 
hand, and leaving thereon a 
thin line of new blue, running 
rainbow fashion with a broader 
one of ocher. " The fam'ly en- 
vites ye, d' ye ken ? She '11 be 
proud te have ye, mairover." 

He paused and looked long- 
ingly at me. I was about to 
say something in thanks for the 
proffered hospitahty, when he 
broke forth, " Ye '11 no be apel 
te be waverin' here, whateffer, 
a-peentin' on yon," indicating 
the canvas with a sweep. " The 
nor'easter 's due, an' 'deed she '11 
be here the night." 

I saw that the sky did indeed 
look threatening, and the wind 
was changing. 



" Ef ye '11 be acceptin' ma 
hospitality, aw '11 take ye ower 
te Beg Islan' the night." 

I endeavored to persuade 
him of the impossibihty of this. 

" 'Deed, then, an' aw '11 no 
leave ye here, so ye mun just 
pack up ye'r traps, an' aw '11 
carry ye'r peentin' for ye." 

As the vv^ind had changed, I 
saw the folly of remaining on 
the present spot ; there was a 
narrow gully to be passed, and 
in certain tides I had been 
warned that crossing was al- 
most dangerous, for the water 
surged and boiled through the 
rocks with tremendous force. 

When we came to this place 
I found that, in preparation for 
our return, the emissary of the 
Moglashens had so placed a 
drift spar that the crossing was 
comparatively easy. Once upon 
level ground, or at least that 
which is called level at In- 
gonish, his pent-up loquacity 



broke forth again, apropos of 
nothing. ^' Dinna ye see that 
the feshin' 's no what it use te 
be? Theer aye an ill-gitted 
folk here, an' aw don't say, d' ye 
mind? that it 's no the hand 
o' Providence, for the wracks 
that 's been handled here." 

" Were there wreckers here, 
then, in the olden times ? " I 
asked idly, more to feed the 
flame of his loquacity than with 
an interest in the subject. 

" In the olden time, is it ? " 
he said. " Wha, mon," — with 
a fearful look about, and a 
finger upraised, — "whist! aw 
tell ye, aw 'm keener te see un- 
common things than ony. Syne 
aw takes a daunder through the 
shanties, — " with a contemp- 
tuous sweep of the hand in the 
direction of the village, — " do 
aw no see the belongings of the 
gaun-aboot bodies ? Aw could 
tell ye o' the bagman's pack — 
Whist! Aw '11 ask ye — aw say 



te ye, come te Beg Islan' te 
the hoose o' the Moglashens. 
There ye'r belongin's an' ye'r 
peentin' '11 be safe fro' the deev'l- 
ish fingers; aw 'm sayin' that 
ye '11 be better off, d' ye see ? 
aw 'm a-givin' ye a sicht o' ma 
mind — o' ma thochts. Aw 'm 
givin' ye warnin'." 

" Do you mean to say that 
the people here will rob me ? " 
I said. 

" Aw mean te say that — " 
He broke off suddenly and 
pointed to the horizon, where 
Beg Island loomed up dark 
gray, a pyramid against the 
windy sky — "Aw mean te say 
that ye '11 be made welcome 
there for a twal'month, if ye 
like te stop." 

I began to be interested; 
there might be something in all 
this rigmarole, perhaps more 
than the fellow said. My pic- 
ture was almost completed ; it 
would be good to leave it for a 




while. The inn where I was 
stopping was by no means com- 
fortable, hardly tolerable, and 
my room, being on the ground 
floor, was rather damp. No 
other was to be 
had ; the upper 
roomsleakedfrom 
the roof, they said. 
Why not go over 
with this eager 
Gaelic gentleman 
of the open- 
handed hospital- 
ity ? Surely I could be no worse 
off there than here in my present 
quarters. 

"I '11 tell you what I '11 do," 
I said, when we were nearly at 
the inn; "^I '11 toss up a cent. 
Heads I stay here, tails I go 
with you to-night over to Beg 
Island." 

" Tails it is, an' at the first 
cast of the bawbee," said the 
Moglashen, gleefully, as he 
touched the coin. "An' ye 



promised," seeing my glance at 
the gathering clouds. 

Then he ran ahead, calling 
out that he would get the boat 
ready and carry down my traps 
and luggage. 

I saw I was in for it now; 
there was no turning back — I 
was to be the guest of the Mo- 
glashens on Beg Island. There 




was some difficulty in explain- 
ing to the wondering inn peo- 
ple, but at length matters were 
settled, and I left word that any 
mail that arrived for me was to 
be sent over in a special boat. 
In two hours we were off 
Beg Island, which loomed up 
before us vast and brown through 
11 



a transparent mist of flying 
spray. The sea was rough, and 
before Ingonish was a mile 
away I had repented of my 
hasty decision. Soon I heard an 
exclamation from Moglashen, 
of whom I began to weary. 

" There," he said, pointing 
to a white speck on the side of 
the hill, " there 's Moglashen's. 
They '11 be seein' us the noo. 
Jeannie '11 be in the toor, — 
Jeannie '11 be the eldest, d' ye 
ken ? Then the' '11 be Patty ; then 
the' '11 be Matty ; then the' '11 
be Tessie; then the' '11 be — " 

"What!" I said, "all girls?" 

"Aye. The' '11 be Lizzie; 
then the' '11 be Laurie — sax o' 
them, an' a' the most enticin' 
sort, d' ye ken ? But ye '11 see 
for yoursel'. Aw mon say, 
though, that Jeannie '11 be the 
leddy," he exclaimed in an em- 
phatic tone. 

Here was an adventure, sure 
enough! I was to live in a 

12 



family of seven women, and I 
had evidently been brought 
here with the idea that I might 
foil a victim to one of the six 
of " the most enticin' sort." 

The thought was so absurd 
that I laughed aloud, and this 
seemed to remove some linger- 
ing doubts in the mind of Mo- 
glashen, who had been eying 
me, for he exclaimed, with a 
great show of glee, " Aye," 
slapping his hand upon his knee, 
and rubbing it softly up and 
down. " Ye '11 be that happy — 
I '11 answer for 't, what wi' 
pianny playin' sax month on 
end, an' ye '11 no hae felt the 
time." 

" What ! " said I, in surprise, 
" have you a piano here ? " 

" 'Deed an' we hae. Wass a 
brig come ashoor — salvage, 
d' ye mind ? WuU Taggart 
would hae it that 't was his, 
but" — with a chuckle — "aw 
would na. Mon," he added. 



after an interval of silence, 
during which we rapidly ap- 
proached the island, " when ye 
hear the skirl o' Jeannie's voice, 
and the manful pluckin' o' the 
pianny, ye '11 no regret yer up- 
tassin' o' the bawbee." 

In due time we reached the 
landing-place between two im- 
mense rocks, from which a path 
flanked by two spars — proba- 
bly the remnant of the ill-fated 
brig — led up to the house, a 




long patchwork structure of 
stone, the lower part of which 
was whitewashed. It looked 
comfortable enough in the low 
western light. 



Moglashen,who was busying 
himself with the boat, which he 
had hauled up on a sort of min- 
iature ship-railway by means 
of a windlass, called out to me 
to follow the path up to the 
house, and he would "bejoinin' 
me presently." 

Somewhat to my surprise, the 
door remained closed, nor did 
I see a sign of the " invitin' 
sort " who, according to Mo- 
glashen, were to make me so 
welcome to Beg Island. 

I knocked loudly at the door, 
once, a half-dozen times, to no 
purpose, then boldly turned the 
knob and entered. A fire was 
burning in a wide fireplace, — 
a fire of sea-wood from which 
tiny flames of green and blue 
flickered in a most dehghtful 
manner, — and a simmering ket- 
tle filled the room with harmo- 
nious sounds. The floor was 
covered with mats of home 
manufacture, archaic in design 



and of various shapes. On 
the table by the window was 
a ball of yam in which the 
needles were sticking, the half- 




finished stocking depending 
from it half-way to the floor, as 
ifit had been hurriedly dropped, 
and beside the ball was a pair 
of silver-bowed spectacles. The 
room was a homely one alto- 
gether, and I threw off my great- 
coat and high boots, seating my- 
self in the arm-chair before the 
fire to dry my wet feet. The sea 
had been rough, and some water 
came over the bow in spite of 
Moglashen's skill. 

While I was musing upon the 



absurdity of coming over to Beg 
Island, and almost dozing in the 
grateful warmth from the sea- 
wood fire, I heard voices in dis- 
pute, then the falsetto of Mo- 
glashen mingled with feminine 
exclamations. They seemed to 
come from the next room ; a 
door slammed noisily, and then 
a woman's voice said distinctly: 
" She '11 no be able te stay here, 
an' that 's a fact, aw can tell ye, 
ye daunderin' aul' ejiot. Whaur 
in the name o' the prauphet '11 
she sleep ? When well ye ken 
that we 're aye sleepin' twa in 
a bed the noo ? " Decidedly this 
was a welcome. 

Just then the door opened 
and Moglashen entered, saying 
with an uncouth attempt at 
Hght-heartedness that seemed 
absolutely ridiculous after what 
I had heard behind the closed 
door: 

"An' aw hope ye '11 be en- 
joyin' yersel', ma freend, whiles 

2 17 



the supper 's preparin' ; an' after 
the supper we '11 aye hae a bit 
thump at the pianny. An' 
noo — " he tiptoed over to a 
cupboard, from which he 
brought forth a squatty, prom- 
ising-looking jug and a cup, 
and set them before me — "an' 
noo we '11 just hae a wee bit 
drap te warm the cockles." 

We were in the act of drink- 
ing each other's health when a 
female voice from the other 
room called out, " Will — yum ! " 

Moglashen almost dropped 
the cup from his hand, and, set- 
ting it down on the table, said 
in an awestruck tone : 

"An' aw '11 just hae te leave 
ye whiles I answer t' wife." 

He closed the door after him. 
I seemed to hear a scuffle and 
smothered exclamations; then 
a door slammed and silence fell. 
While I was speculating over 
these happenings Moglashen 
returned, bearing a lamp, for it 

18 



had grown quite dark by this 
time. He still kept up the un- 
couth semblance of cheerful 
hospitality while laying the 
table, putting the tea to draw 
on the hob, and slicing a savory- 
looking ham, and 
then sat down be- 
side me, his eyes 
fixed on the fire, 
his hands nerv- 
ously rubbing his 
knees. 

Determined to _ 
know what the ^'"^ 
trouble was,or rather to corrobo- 
rate the surmise I had formed, 
I asked for his wife and daugh- 
ters. Were we not to have their 
company at supper ? 

"'Deed, then, aw '11 tell ye 
the hale lot o' them 's doon 
sick." He paused to note what 
effect this might have upon me, 
running his hand through the 
fiery red beard. 

" Sick ! " I exclaimed, " and 

19 




you brought me here, knowing 
this ? " 

"Weel, ye canna be angered 
when aw tell ye aw deed n't 
ken they were as sick as a' 
that — eh, but they 're sare sick 
the noo," he exclaimed dismally, 
staring into the blaze, and rub- 
bing his knees and thighs. 

" But what ails them, man ? 
Is it anything serious ? Can I 
do anything to help — " 

" Nae; ye jist canna, an' that 
's a' aboot it, mon alive," he 
exclaimed, rising in a kind of 
desperation, and seizing the 
teapot. "Ye '11 just take a bit 
supper an' then — " A noise at 
the door and the voice calling, 
" Will — yum ! " and Moglashen 
once more disappeared. When 
he returned we ate our supper 
almost in silence, and without 
further interruption; after which 
he cleared the table, handed 
out clay pipes and a box of leaf 
tobacco, and set a kettle of fresh 

20 



water on to boil ; then with a 
sigh, seating himself once more 
beside me before the fire, he 
delivered himself as follows : 

" A mon maybe hospeetable, 
an' yet hae no t' abeeUty t' 
carry 't oot, d' ye see ? Well, 
then, here ye hae a mon, as 
aw said, that 's aye hospeet- 
able, an' a' thing 's ag'in' her. 
She '11 be wantin' for company 
o* the male kind, an' she '11 no 
be let hae it in peace, d' ye see ? 
Well, then, aw '11 go a bit 
farther. 

" Here ye hae a mon, as aw 
say, hospeetable, an' she finds 
an uncommon chance te hae a 
bit gossip aboot the grand great 
ceeties wi' a chap fresh frae it 
a'. Well, then, she takes a 
daunder ower the bit rocks, an' 
presents thae hospeetality te 
thae chap. Syne thae chap 
agrees," he continued misera- 
bly, " an' thae ward 's gi'en." 
He paused, and, rubbing his 



whiskers meditatively, began 
again : " Here ye hae a mon 
wi'oot t' abeelity te carry 't 
oot, an' aw 'm sayin' she 's aye 
an ill-gitted mon that 's aye 
wi'oot a ward in her ain hoose ; 
aw 'm sayin' here ye hae a mon 
wi'oot a ward in her ain hoose, 
d' ye see ? " he asked, anxiously 
seeking my eye. 

" I see," I said reassuringly. 
Indeed I could not help seeing 
it all. In his own language, 
here we had a man who had a 
large element of hospitality in 
his nature, which he was forced 
to keep in abeyance in conse- 
quence of a difference of opinion 
on the part of his better half, 
and, for aught I knew, on the 
part of the " enticers " as well. 

In his desire for companion- 
ship he had invited me to come 
to Beg Island and to stop with 
him for an indefinite period, all 
without consulting the wishes 
of his good lady, thereby get- 

22 



ting himself into a difficulty 
from which he could see no 
means of escape. 

" Well, what is to be done ? " 
I said. " I cannot go out into 
the storm, and there 's no other 
house within reach, or — " 

" Aw beg ye, don't, don't 
say anither ward about gangin' 
oot," he said piteously, wring- 
ing his hands. "Aw 'm — " 

"Will— yum!" And he 
again disappeared. 

I composed myself as well as 
I could in the huge chair be- 
fore the fireplace; 
the wind howled 
dismally around 
the eaves, and I 
could hear the 
waves dashing 
against the rocks 
below\ I strug- 
gled against the desire to sleep ; 
I was conscious that Moglashen 
came in at intervals, that he 
replenished the fire, that he 

23 




piled coats and blankets about 
me. . . . 

I awoke at daybreak, and 
soon after Moglashen came in, 
threw some chips and a log on 
the fire, and began preparations 
for breakfast. We talked with- 
out saying anything, strictly 
avoiding any reference to the 
ladies or referring in any way 
to the Moglashen hospitality. 
He was garrulous, yet in a 
subdued manner, constantly 
glancing at me out of the 
corner of his eye. He made 
no resistance to my demand to 
be taken over to Ingonish im- 
mediately after breakfast. I 
gave him to understand that I 
beUeved the " pianny " to be a 
myth, and — well, there might 
be six beauteous creatures, but 
I was not prepared to believe 
in them. 

Utterly cowed, and as differ- 
ent as possible from the canny 
Moglashen of yesterday, was 
u 



the creature Mogl ashen of to- 
day; his hair and beard no 
longer stood boldly out from 
his face, but were brushed back 
smoothly, evidently by feminine 
hands. 

He led the way down the path 
to the boat, shoved her down the 
ways, stepped the mast, shook 
out the sail to the 
fresh morning 
breeze, and thus 
we left Beg Isl- 
and and the long, 
low whitewashed 
house of the Mo- 
glashens shining 
in the morning 
sun. 2 5 

When we were > 

about a mile away ^ 

I fancied I saw fluttering dresses 
against the green of the hillside; 
but this was the only glimpse I 
had of the ladies Moglashen. 

Every week since my return 
to town a bundle of New York 




papers goes to Beg Island ad- 
dressed to William Moglashen, 
but I have neither heard from 
him nor seen him since I left 
him that July morning standing 
abject and humihated in his 
boat under the wharf at In- 
gonish. 




THE CLAVECIN, 
BRUGES 



THE CLAVECIN, 
BRUGES 



A SILENT, grass-grown mar- 
ket-place, upon the uneven 
stones of which the sabots of a 
passing black-cloaked peasant 




clatter loudly. A group of 
sleepy-looking soldiers in red 
trousers lolling about the wide 



portal of the Belfry, which rears 
aloft against the pearly sky 

All the height it has 
Of ancient stone. 

As the chime ceases there 
lingers for a space a faint mu- 
sical hum in the air ; the stones 
seem to carry and retain the 
melody ; one is loath to move 
for fear of losing some part of 
the harmony. 

I feel an indescribable im- 
pulse to climb the four hundred 




odd steps; incomprehensible, 
for I detest steeple-chmbing, 
and have no patience with 
steeple-climbers. 

30 



Before I realize it, I am at 
the stairs. "Hold, sir!" from 
behind me. " It is forbidden." 




In wretched French a wea- 
zened-faced little soldier ex- 
plains that repairs are about to 
be made in the tower, in con- 
sequence of which visitors are 
forbidden. A franc removes 
this military obstacle, and I 
press on. 

At the top of the stairs is an 
old Flemish woman shelling 
peas, while over her shoulder 
peeps a tame magpie. A savory 

31 



odor of stewing vegetables fills 
the air. 

"What do you wish, sir?" 
Many shrugs, gesticulations, 
and sighs of objurgation, which 
are covered by a shining new 
five-franc piece, and she pro- 
duces a bunch of keys. As the 
door closes upon me the mag- 
pie gives a hoarse, gleeful 
squawk. 

... A huge, dim room with 
a vaulted ceiling. Against the 
wall lean ancient stone statues, 




noseless and disfigured,crowned 
and sceptered efiigies of for- 
gotten lords and ladies of Flan- 

32 



ders. High up on the wall two 
slitted Gothic windows, through 
which the violet light of day is 
streaming. I hear the gentle 
coo of pigeons. To the right a 
low door, some vanishing steps 
of stone, and a hanging hand- 
rope. Before I have taken a 
dozen steps upward I am lost 
in the darkness ; the steps are 
worn hollow and sloping, the 
rope is slippery — seems to have 
been waxed, so smooth has it 
become by handling. Four 
hundred steps and over ; I have 
lost track of the number, and 
stumble giddily upward round 
and round the slender stone 
shaft. I am conscious of low 
openings from time to time — 
openings to what ? I do not 
know. A damp smell exhales 
from them, and the air is cold 
upon my face as I pass them. 
At last a dim light above. With 
the next turn a blinding glare 
of Hght, a moment's blankness. 



then a vast panorama gradually 
dawns upon me. Through the 
frame of stonework is a vast 




reach of grayish green bounded 
by the horizon, an immense 
shield embossed with silvery 
lines of waterways, and studded 
with clustering red-tiled roofs. 
A rim of pale yellow appears, — 
the sand-dunes that line the 
coast, — and dimly beyond a 
grayish film, evanescent, flash- 
ing — the North Sea. 

Something flies through the 
slit from which I am gazing, 
and, following its flight upward, 
I see a long beam crossing the 
gallery, whereon are perched 



an array of jackdaws gazing 
down upon me in wonder. 

I am conscious of a rhythmic 
movement about me that stirs 
the air, a mysterious, beating, 




throbbing sound, the machinery 
of the clock, which some one 
has described as a " heart of 
iron beating in a breast of 
stone." 

35 



I lean idly in the narrow slit, 
gazing at the softened land- 
scape, the exquisite harmony 
of the greens, grays, and browns, 
the lazily turning arms of far-off 
mills, reminders of Cuyp, Van 
der Velde, Teniers, shadowy, 
mysterious recollections. I am 
conscious of uttering aloud 
some commonplaces of de- 
light. A slight and sudden 
movement behind me, a smoth- 
ered cough. A little old man 
in a black velvet coat stands 
looking up at me, twisting and 
untwisting his hands. There 
are ruffles at his throat and 
wrists, and an amused smile 
spreads over his face, which is 
cleanly shaven, of the color of 
wax, with a tiny network of red 
lines over the cheek-bones, as 
if the blood had been forced 
there by some excess of passion 
and had remained. He has 
heard my sentimental ejacula- 
tion. I am conscious of the 



absurdity of the situation, and 
move aside for him to pass. He 
makes a courteous gesture with 
one ruffled hand. 

There comes a prodigious 
ratthng and grinding noise from 
above, then a jangle of bells, 
some half-dozen notes in all. 
At the first stroke the old man 
closes his eyes, throws back 
his head, and follows the rhythm 
with his long, white hands, as 
though playing a piano. "The 
sound dies away; the place 
becomes painfully silent; still 
the regular motion of the old 
man's hands continues. A 
creepy, shivery feeling runs up 
and down my spine, a fear of 
which I am ashamed seizes 
upon me. 

" Fine pells^ sare," says the 
little old man, suddenly drop- 
ping his hands, and fixing his 
eyes upon me. " You sail not 
hear such pells in your countree. 
But stay not here ; come wis me, 

37 



and I will show you the clavecin. 
You sail not see the clavecin 
yet? No?" 

I had not, of course, and 
thanked him. 

" You sail see Melchior, 
Melchior t'e Groote, t'e mag- 
nif." 

As he spoke we entered a 
room quite filled with curious 
machinery, a medley of levers, 
wires, and rope above, below 
two large cylinders studded 
with shining brass points. 

He sprang among the wires 
with a spidery sort of agihty, 
'<''tflte%i caughtone, pulled 
and hung upon it 
with allhis weight. 
There came a 
r-r-r-r-r-r of fans 
and wheels, fol- 
lowed by a shower 
of dust; slowly one 
great cylinder began to revolve; 
wires and ropes reaching into 
the gloom above began to 

38 




twitch convulsively ; faintly 
came the jangle of far-off bells. 
Then came a pause, then a 
deafening boom that well nigh 
stunned me. As the waves of 
sound came and went, the little 
old man twisted and untwisted 




his hands in dehght, and ejac- 
ulated, " Melchior you haf 
heeard, Melchior t'e Groote — 
t'e bourdon." 

I wanted to examine the 
machinery, but he impatiendy 
seized my arm and almost 

39 



dragged me away, saying, " I 
will skow you — I will skowyou. 
Come wis me." 

From a pocket he produced 
a long brass key, and unlocked 
a door covered with red leather, 
disclosing an up-leading flight 
of steps, to which he pushed 
me. It gave upon an octagon- 
shaped room with a curious 
floor of sheet-lead. Around 
the wall ran a seat under the 
diamond-paned Gothic win- 
dows. From their shape I knew 
them to be the highest in the 
tower. I had seen them from 
the square below many times, 
with the framework above upon 
which hung row upon row of 
bells. 

In the middle of the room 
was a rude sort of keyboard, 
with pedals below, like those 
of a large organ. Fronting this 
construction sat a long, high- 
backed bench. On the rack 
over the keyboard rested some 

40 



sheets of music, which, upon 
examination, I found to be of 
parchment and written by hand. 
The notes were curious in shape, 
consisting of squares of black 
and diamonds of red upon the 
Hnes. Across the top of the 
page was written, in a strag- 
ghng hand, " Van den Gheyn, 
Nikolaas." I turned to the 
httle old man with the ruffles. 
'' Van den Gheyn ! " I said in 
surprise, pointing to the parch- 
ment. " Why, that is the name 
of the most celebrated of caril- 
lo?i7iejtrs, Van den Gheyn of 
Louvain." He untwisted his 
hands and bowed. " Eet ees 
ma name, mynheer; I am the 
cariliofmeur." 

I fancied that my face showed 
all too plainly the incredulity I 
felt, for his darkened, and he 
muttered, "You not behef, 
Engelsch ? Ah, I skow you ; 
then you belief, parehap," and 
with astounding agility seated 



himself upon the bench before 
the clavecin, turned up the 
ruffles at his wrists, and Hterally 
threw himself upon the keys. 




A sound of thunder, accom- 
panied by a vivid flash of 
lightning, filled the air, even 
as the first notes of the bells 
reached my ears. Involuntarily 
I glanced out of the diamond- 
leaded window: dark clouds 

42 



were all about us, the house- 
tops and surrounding country 
were no longer to be seen. A 
blinding flash of lightning 
seemed to fill the room ; the 
arms and legs of the little old 
man sought the keys and pedals 
with inconceivable rapidity ; 
the music crashed about us with 
a deafening din, to the accom- 
paniment of the thunder, which 
seemed to sound in unison with 
the boom of the bourdon. It 
was grandly terrible. The face 
of the Httle old man was turned 
upon me, but his eyes were 
closed. He seemed to find 
the pedals intuitively, and at 
every peal of thunder, which 
shook the tower to its founda- 
tions, he would open his mouth, 
a toothless cavern, and shout 
aloud. I could not hear the 
sounds for the crashing of the 
bells. Finally, with a last deaf- 
ening crash of iron rods and 
thunderbolts, the noise of the 

43 



bells gradually died away. In- 
stinctively I had glanced above 
when the crash came^ half ex- 
pecting to see the roof torn 
off. 

" I think we had better go 
down," I said. " This tower 
has been struck by lightning 
several times, and I imagine 
that discretion — " 

I don't know what more I 
said, for my eyes rested upon 
the empty bench, and the bare 
rack where the music had been. 
The clavecin was one mass of 
twisted iron rods, tangled wires, 
anddecayed, worm-eaten wood- 
work; the little old man had 
disappeared. I rushed to the 
red leather- covered door; it 
was fast. I shook it in a veri- 
table terror ; it would not yield. 
With a bound I reached the 
ruined clavecin, seized one of 
the pedals, and tore it away 
from the machine. The end 
was armed with an iron point. 

44 



This I inserted between the 
lock and the door. I twisted 
the lock from the worm-eaten 
wood with one turn of the 
wrist, the door opened, and I 
almost fell down the steep 
steps. The second door at the 
bottom was also closed. I 
threw my weight against it 
once, twice ; it gave, and I 
half slipped, half ran down 
the winding steps in the dark- 
ness. 

Out at last into the fresh air 
of the lower passage. At the 
noise I made in closing the 
ponderous door came forth the 
old custode. 

In my excitement I seized 
her by the arm, saying, " Who 
was the little old man in the 
black velvet coat with the 
ruffles ? Where is he ? " 

She looked at me in a stupid 
manner. " Who is he," I re- 
peated — "the Httle old man 
who played the clavecin ? " 

45 



" Little old man, sir ? I don't 
know," said the crone. " There 
has been no one in the tower 
to-day but yourself." 




46 



THE COFFEE-HOUSE, 
MAARKEN 



THE COFFEE-HOUSE, 
MAARKEN 



At nine o'clock the coffee- 
house is full. It is a long, low 
room, well smoked as to ceil- 




ing and walls, and well sanded 
as to floor ; and although it is 
the official meeting-place of the 



town, where the burgomaster 
and the principal men of the 
locality congregate, it can hold 
them all, and still give bench- 
room to the chance stranger. 

A high-backed oaken bench, 
well polished by use, follows 
the wall on three sides, leaving 
space for the high white-tiled 
fireplace. The fourth is oc- 
cupied by a leaden-faced bar, 
or counter, well garnished with 
the tall delft jars in blue and 
Avhite with shining brass tops, 
wherein is contained the ma- 
terial for the goodly array of 
clay pipes in the racks over- 
head. Small, round tables are 
set before the bench, leav- 
ing the center of the room 
free. The bench itself is well 
occupied by a line of stoHd, 
substantial-looking, ruminating 
Hollanders smoking furiously, 
the gray wreaths of pungent 
vapor slowly curling upward 
about the hanging models of 

50 



vessels, high as to poop and 
rounded as to bow — models 
of the time of Van der Decken. 
Only occasionally does a 
mynheer remove his pipe to let 
fail a sentence epigrammatic in 
its terseness. Your North Hol- 
lander speaks slowly, and is 
economical with his words. He 
neither looks for nor attempts 
smartness of repartee ; does not 
smile easily ; and rarely tells a 
story, because all the stories are 
known and worn 
threadbare byre- 
petition, and he 
is shy of new 
ones. If one 
Ustens to the talk 
one finds that it 
is of the sea. 
Everything in 
Maarken be- 
longs to the sea. 
How can one be interested in 
crops that are grown in tubs ; 
in farms that number feet in- 

51 




stead of acres ; in land brought 
from Amsterdam at that, for 
Maarken is all sand? Then, 
again, when one goes abroad 
in Maarken, one must either 
walk over the water on bridges 
or sail upon it in a boat, and even 
the housetops are ornamented 
with bellying nets hung up to 
dry, and with long masts from 
which Juvrowe 
flies a signal of wel- 
come to Hendrik 
or Nikolaas on his 
way home in his 
blunt-bowed, lee- 
boarded tjalk. It 
is in the coffee- 
house that your 
talker, your ro- 
^ mancer, is dis- 
couraged. He is quickly made 
to understand by means well 
known to the phlegmatic fre- 
quenters that they will have 
none of him ; that he must 
either observe the proprieties 

52 




well established there, or go 
away at once. 

In the coffee-house whist is 
much in vogue — an excellent 
method of disguising the pov- 
erty of conversation, or of ex- 
cusing the lack of it. So hap- 
pily constituted are the players, 







that with the exception of an 
occasional grunt of pleasure or 
dismay, as it so happens, when 
a card is laid down, and the 
continuous puffing of pipes 
manufacturing fragrant fog, the 
silence is well nigh unbroken 
for, I was about to say, hours 
at a time. 

53 



This evening the current 
was interrupted — excitement 
reigned; that is to say, as much 
excitement as could be per- 
mitted within the hallowed 
precincts of the coffee-house. 
A stranger was present. Enough 
would it have been had the 
stranger been a countryman 
from Sneek, or even from Mon- 
nikendam ; but lo ! this was no 
common, every-day stranger, 
actually sitting in the corner 
by the tile-garnished fireplace, 
drinking his thin beer and 
smoking a new clay pipe as 
stoHdly as if he had occupied 
the spot for a score of years. 
This bearing of his conferred a 
dignity upon him in the eyes of 
the mynheers that they could 
not conceal. Whist languished, 
pipes went out and needed re- 
lighting, a necessity in itself 
marvelous and hitherto un- 
heard of. Whispers were heard 
from the burgomaster's corner. 

54 



The mynheers slid along the 
polished bench until they were 
all in a knot, with their heads to- 
gether about the burgomaster's. 

The whispers became louder; 
horny palms smote one another; 
an unheeded pipe fell to the 
floor, and broke in pieces with 
a metallic click. The group 
parted and it was evident that 
a crisis had arrived. The burgo- 
master drew apart in a dignified 
manner, and approached the 
stranger. The others also slid 
their persons along the polished 
settle in his direction. The 
burgomaster bowed, ejaculated, 
" Dag, mynheer/' seized the 
poker, and made shift to stir 
the lumps of glowing charcoal 
in the brass box on the hearth. 

It was like a scene from a 
comic opera, with the Hne of 
fascinated mynheers in very 
small skull-caps perched upon 
their shock heads, bright neck- 
erchiefs fastened with huge gold 

55 



buttons, coats abbreviated as to 
tails and tight in the waist, and 
breeches of indescribable width. 
There was, however, a trifle 
more of dignity in the dress of 
the burgomaster. His was a 
long-tailed coat of clerical cut, 




a wide-brimmed felt hat, knee- 
breeches, and leggings. Still 
stirring the coals, he seated 
himself beside the stranger, and 
looked him critically over from 
the corner of his eye. The in- 
spection seemed to be satisfac- 
tory, for he offered his tobacco- 

56 



box with a ceremonious bow. 
The stranger accepted, and 
bowed in return, and the salu- 
tation was repeated by the myn- 
heers on the sHppery bench; 
which formaHty being at an 
end, the burgomaster, filHng his 
pipe, ejaculated : 

" Van Amerikaa ? " 

" Van Amerikaa," avowed 
the stranger. 

" Van Amerikaa," triumph- 
antly sounded in chorus the 
mynheers on the bench. There 
was a long pause, during which 
heavy volumes of smoke arose. 

" Nord Amerikaa ? " asked 
the burgomaster in a doubtful 
tone. 

"Nord Amerikaa," responded 
the stranger. 

" Nord Amerikaa," sounded 
the chorus of mynheers, nod- 
ding to one another in great 
enjoyment of the perspicacity of 
the burgomaster. Another long 
interval followed, during which 

57 



the mynheers allowed the fact 
to percolate through their gray 
matter. 

" New York ? " suddenly 
called out, in a burst of genius, 
a fat fellow with an absurdly 
thin neck and an emaciated 
head, who sat at the farthest 
end of the bench. 

The stranger's answer to this 
brilliant inquiry was breath- 
lessly awaited. Finally, when 
he had succeeded in Hghting 
his pipe, he nodded. With a 
sigh of relief the mynheers 
gravely repeated the nod to one 
another, and all settled back on 
the bench. 

Here the burgomaster began 
to shuffle his feet and to blink 
his eyes. He was evidently 
formulating an interrogation, 
but before he could get it in 
form, from the emaciated head 
on the end of the bench came 
in jerks : "New York has got 
a Brasident — Cleveland, heh ? 

58 



Shoo-fly ! I spik Engelsch ! " 
Much to the disappointment 
of the mynheers, who evidently 
regarded the speaker as a 
scholar of the first magnitude, 




the stranger did not vouchsafe 
any reply to this piece of infor- 
mation, but drained his beer- 
mug to the last drop, and set it 
upon the table with the lid up. 



There is an old and honored 
custom in Holland which pro- 
vides that whenever one leaves 
his mug with the lid up in a 
public place it is in form for all 
within reach to deposit their 
mugs upon his table, and he is 
forced to pay for their refilling. 
Such an occasion had not hap- 
pened in Maarken within the 
memory of the oldest mynheer in 
the town, and almost before the 
American's mug had touched 
the table the eager mynheers 
were upon their 
feet, headed by 
thedignifiedbur- 
gomaster, mug 
in hand. 

The stranger, 
when the situ- 
ation was ex- 
plained to him 
with excited ges- 
tures by the landlord, in which 
the chorus joined, paid for his 
error in good grace, and once 

61 




more quietness reigned. With 
his mug in hand and his eyes 
fixed upon the glowing char- 
coal in the brass box, the Ameri- 
can began in tolerable Dutch, 




as if talking to himself: "In 
New York one sees railroads 
built in the air, and cars crowded 
with people rushing over them. 
In New York buildings thirteen 



stories high are seen, and stairs 
are seldom used. People are 
whisked up to their rooms in 
cars run by steam. In New 
York cars are run upon the 
streets not by horses or steam, 
but by lightning, and all the 
lamps in the city are hghted 
at once by one man, who uses 
no fire or matches, but simply 
sits in his chair and turns a 
screw. In New York there is 
a bridge so high that the masts 
of tall vessels may pass under it 
without touching. It is hung 
upon wires, and railroad-trains 
pass over it all day and night. 
In New York — " The burgo- 
master paused spellbound in 
the act of drinking, and slowly 
set down his mug with the lid 
up. The stranger's eye caught 
the error, and he banged his 
mug on the table beside the 
burgomaster's. The mynheers 
rose to their feet in an ecstasy 
of astonishment, indignation, 



and dismay; and before the 
stranger's mug had been filled 
and replaced upon the table, 
the coffee-house was empty, 
save for the presence of the 
American and the awestruck 
landlord. 




64 



STRANGE TO SAY" 



"STRANGE TO SAY" 

A VAST network of iron rods 
and girders overhead ; long 
spirals of white steam rising 
through the gray smoke from a 
score of locomotives panting 
and puffing as if impatient to be 
gone ; avenues of railway-car- 
riages in yellow, brown, and 
black; hurrying, pushing mul- 
titudes jostling one another ; 
tired-looking travelers at the 
end of their journeys ; hopeful- 
looking travelers braving the 
possibilities of the unknown; 
luggage-porters, in caps of 
flaming red and blouses of blue, 
staggering under Brobdingna- 
gian loads; parting messages 
drowned in the babel of sounds; 
shrill, warning whistles of de- 
parting trains ; the clanking of 

67 



iron wheels on the turn-tables ; 
then, suddenly, as if by magic, 
the multitude has vanished. 
Guards run along the lines of 
carriages, slamming doors and 
turning the brass keys. The 




door of one second-class car- 
riage at the end of the line is 
open. Into this I pitch my rug 



and valise, and scramble in 
after them ; the guard slams 
the door, screams out a hoarse 
word, and the long train glides 
out of the Rhijn Spoorweg 




Station at Rotterdam on its 
way to Paris. 

A person who was curled up 
in the comer let his feet down 
upon the floor and helped me 
to stow my valise in the racks, 



and, when this preliminary was 
settled, produced a cigar-case, 
and inquired in tolerable Eng- 
lish if I affected tobacco. We 
exchanged cigars. His was 
excellent, while the one from 
my case was an ordinary three- 
center that I had purchased in 
Amsterdam. Still, he did not 
complain. 1 could see in the 




dim light of the winter evening 
that he was short. He could 
hardly have been five feet in 
height, but the feature that most 
impressed itself upon me was 
his head, which was entirely 



out of proportion to his body, 
and surmounted by a fanciful 
traveling-cap. 

Between the puffs of his cigar, 
which he consumed furiously, 
he informed me that he had 
been in America, in New-York, 
several years before ; indeed, he 
was a great traveler, I fancy, 
for he had some sort of yarn of 
half a dozen countries to relate, 
in his queer English, which was 
broken with as fully queer 
French and ItaHan. He longed 
for " gompany," he said, and 
was deHghted that we were 
to be traveling companions. 
While he was rather inquisitive, 
there was nothing in his ques- 
tions at which one could take 
offense; indeed, he was quite 
as amusing as voluble, and all 
I had to do was to listen quietly, 
with an occasional "Yes" or 
" No " for politeness' sake. 
Soon, however, his mood 
changed, and as we were cross- 

71 



ing the trestle over the Hol- 
lands-Diep he began a sort of 
sermon upon Hfe, delivered, it 
seemed to me, in order to show 
his familiarity with the English 
tongue, and apropos of nothing. 
"As t'e eye of t'e morninck to 
t'e larg, as t'e honey to t'e pee, 
or as garrion to t'e fulture, efen 
such iss life undo t'e heart of 
mangind." This was profound, 
but ere long it became also 
tiresome, as I endeavored to 
show him politely, by extracting 
a yellow-covered Tauchnitz of 
one of Bret Harte's latest stories 
from my shawl-strap, and bury- 
ing myself therein — quite a 
transparent subterfuge, for it 
had become entirely too dark to 
read. He had curled his legs 
under him, and I fancied and 
hoped that he might be pre- 
paring to go to sleep. He made 
me nervous with his drone, and 
with his immense head with the 
ridiculous cap perched upon it. 

72 



It seemed as if I could not keep 
my eyes away from him. We 
were slowing up at a small 
station, and finally, with a grind- 
ing of the brakes, stopped alto- 
gether. There came a pound- 
ing noise of feet on the roof of 
the carriage, a crash, and then 
a lamp was thrust into its socket 
overhead, and the footsteps 
passed on. 

My companion looked posi- 
tively hideous in the dim yellow 
light of the lamp overhead, 
which feebly illuminated the 
carriage. Where I knew his 
eyes to be were two huge, black 
patches, from which now and 
again came a flash, and his 
cheek-bones stood out with 
ghastly prominence. As the 
train gathered momentum his 
singsong voice rang above the 
noise of the swiftly moving 
wheels. " Complain nod vith 
the fool off t'e shordness off dy 
time. Rememper — " Con- 

73 



found the man ! Was I to be 
annoyed with this sort of thing 
all the way to Brussels ? 
"Vishest dou to haf an obbor- 
tunity off more wices — " I 




turned in the seat, and resting 
my head against the cushioned 
side, pretended to close my eyes 
as if to sleep. Of no avail. 
Still the hissing s's rang upon 
my senses with maddening reit- 

74 



eration, I fancy that in spite 
of my nervousness I must have 
dropped off to sleep for an in- 
stant, for a touch awoke me, 
and starting to my feet, I found 
that my companion had moved 
to the seat exactly opposite my 
own, and with his hand upon 
my knee,-^— a large, bony hand 
it was, with enlarged joints, and 
nails bitten to the quick, — had 
thrust his face forward until it 
was not more than six inches 
from my own. He was still 
chanting his infernal proverbs : 
" Not life a telusion, a zeries off 
mizatventures, a bursuit off ewils 
linked togedder on all sides — " 
I thrust him away from me with 
an exclamation of disgust. " In 
heaven's name, man, what ails 
you ? I wish you would oblige 
me by stopping your infernal 
gabble!" 

" Softly, friend," he said,lean- 
ing back against the cushions. 
" You are a younk man, and I 

75 



am an alt man. I haf seen 
moch off t'e vorld. T'e t'ought- 
less man pridleth not his tongue ; 
he speaketh at random ; and is 
gaught in the vooHshness off 
his own vords." 

"What do I care what you 
have seen!" I exclaimed petu- 
lantly, now thoroughly exas- 
perated. " Have the goodness 
to keep to your own end of 
the carriage, and I will keep to 
mine." 

In a moment I was sorry I 
had spoken so harshly to the 
man, and the more I sought to 
justify my words, the more in- 
excusable did they become. 
He had really done nothing at 
which I could take offense. 
The garrulousness of age, and 
the very natural desire to exer- 
cise his knowledge of the Eng- 
lish language — I began to cast 
about in my mind for some 
means with which to soften 
and undo in a measure that 



which T now considered my 
extreme irritabihty ; but, at the 
same time, I had no desire to 
stimulate the now happily pent- 
up flood of proverbs to renewed 
activity. I gave a sidelong 
glance toward the comer to 
which he had retired, and 
where he sat with his legs 
drawn up under him, motion- 
less save for a certain nervous 
activity of his two thumbs, 
which revolved 
one over the 
other. I could 
not tell whether 
he was watching 
me, for his eyes were invisi- 
ble in the deep shadows made 
by his overhanging eyebrows. 
Upon second thought I deter- 
mined to let well enough alone, 
and, lighting my little pocket- 
lantern, hung it to the hook at 
my shoulder, and attempted to 
read; but I was unable to fix 
my mind upon the story. Over 

77 




the left-hand corner of the 
book I held, those long, bony, 
large-jointed thumbs tirelessly, 
incessantly revolved. Hold the 
book as I might, I could not 
drive the impression from my 
mind. I was forced to count 
the revolutions of those dread- 
ful thumbs. My mind was 
fully made up to seek another 
compartment at the first stop 
we made. Still the thumbs 
turned and twisted, their size 
exaggerated in the light from 
above. I fell to counting their 
revolutions, almost uncon- 
sciously at first. He seemed 
to have a system — nine times 
outward toward me, ten times 
inward toward himself. Again 
and again I counted — always 
the same, with a maddening 
regularity. On we sped through 
the night. It was raining now, 
and huge drops chased one 
another down the window-pane. 
The "rackety-tack" of the 

•78 



wheels, the easy swaying of the 
carriage to the left and then to 
the right, and the turn and twist 
of those immense thumbs — I 
closed the book in despair, and 
was in the act of thrusting it 
into the shawl-strap, when with 



■M^ 




the rapidity of a thunderclap 
there came a grinding crash, 
and the carriage left the track 
and, after bumping along over 
the sleepers, fell upon its side. 
My companion was thrown 



upon me. He grasped me 
with his long arms, and wound 
his legs about my body. We 
were shaken about like pills in 
a box. There was an interval 
of silence, then the hissing of 
escaping steam, and shrill 
screams, all of which I heard 
in my struggles to escape from 
the octopus-like grasp of my 
companion. At length I suc- 
ceeded in breaking away, and 
with a strength incredible and 
incomprehensible to me now, 
I forced the door above my 
head (for the carriage was lying 
upon its side) just as a number 
of men came up with lanterns. 
We soon had the little French- 
man, or whatever he was, out 
of the wreck, which was not a 
very bad one, only two car- 
riages having left the track in 
consequence of a spreading 
rail. He was quite insensible, 
but when we got him to the 
flagman's hut, some distance 



down the track, he came to 
himself, and we speedily dis- 
covered that he was only a 
bit shaken up. However, to 
my extreme embarrassment, he 
threw himself upon his knees 
at my feet, hailed me as his 
deliverer, and called me by 
many other highfalutin names. 
His gratitude was boundless, 
and in vain did I explain to 
him with all the emphasis at 
my command that I had done 
nothing to earn it. He would 
hear nothing of the sort, waved 
away my explanations as 
"motesty," "prafe motesty," 
and, to my dismay, insisted 
upon embracing me at inter- 
vals. 

I will not dwell upon the 
uncomfortable details of the 
rest of the journey to Paris. 
Suffice it, that I was unable to 
escape from my bete noire until 
I reached the Gare du Nord, 
where I succeeded in eluding 

6 81 



him, it is true, but only for 
seven sweet days, after which 
blessed period he found me, 
and, embracing me in a parox- 
ysm of joy, took up his lodg- 
ing in the building where I had 
my apartment and studio — a 




huge, rambling brick building 
in a quarter somewhat fre- 
quented by painters. Then 
followed a period upon which 
I look back with a shudder; 
days when I kept my studio 
door (which at intervals re- 
sounded with that hated, timid 

82 



knock) locked and barred even 
to my best friends, fearing the 
entrance of my grateful bete 
noire. I remember the un- 
reasonable shudder of disgust 
I felt one night when I had 
gained the court in fancied se- 
curity, only to meet him com- 
ing in the opposite direction, 
feel the grasp of that horrible 
hand upon my arm, and hear 
the hissing s's in my ear. I 
could not work; it was out 
of the question. My picture, 
which I had intended for the 
Salon, was barely begun. My 
bete noire show- 
ered delicacies ^^; 
upon me. The ^^/'i^f 
concierge, for^^^^ 
example, who <■'■*" 
did my cook- 
ing, would bring -v - > i/'J^ 
me game out of tM^J-'" 
season when I expected a chop, 
until at last I forbade him to 
receive the things from " la 

83 



t^te enorme," as he styled him. 
I fancy the villain lived well in 
the interval. 




Each morning expensive cut 
flowers were left at my door by 
the florist, who refused to carry 
them away, saying that he had 
been ordered to leave them, and 
had no further knowledge in 
the matter. So there they stayed 
in the hallway, heaped up 
against the wall as if for a tomb 

84 



in P^re La Chaise, until swept 
away by the concierge, with 
semi-pious ejaculations. Can 
you imagine my position, then, 
with such unmerited gratitude 
thrust upon me ? Finally I de- 
termined to end it all, and wrote 
to London, asking a friend to 
look me up quarters, as I would 
leave Paris at once. Carefully, 
but with a great show of care- 
lessness, I let the concierge un- 
derstand that I would attend 
the opera that evening, in order 
to cover my outgoing. I in- 
tended to take the night train 
for Boulogne, thence go by boat 
to Folkestone. 

Finally we arrived at Bou- 
logne. The night was a stormy 
one. Overhead the moon strug- 
gled with ragged clouds. It had 
been raining, for the pavement 
was wet, and the long lines of 
yellow gas-lamps were reflected 
prettily. There was a rush of 
the passengers toward the boat, 



which lay rocking and plunging 
at the jetty , and when we reached 
the gang-plank the mail-bags 
were already being taken 
aboard, and a huge derrick was 




creaking and groaning as the 
deck-hands hoisted some heavy 
cases over the side. 1 hugged 
myself with dehght, thinking 
that I had escaped from my 
admirer. 

For an instant I fancied I 



saw the pallid face and shrunken 
figureof the little old man among 
the crowd already gathered 
upon the deck, and I sickened 
at the thought that my long 
and tiresome night journey had 
been endured for naught. De- 
termined to know the worst, I 
jumped down from the plank to 
the deck where the face had 
appeared in the glare of the 
electric light, only to see it 
vanish over the companion- 
ladder leading below to the 
freight deck. I could not be 
sure that it was my bete noire, 
but I was bound to follow the 
figure and to satisfy my fears. 
Groping my way among the 
piled-up luggage and boxes, I 
reached a clear space only to 
feel strong hands grasping me 
from behind. I heard a scuffle, 
the arms were wrenched from 
about my neck, and, turning, I 
saw the little old man being 
forced up the gang-plank to the 

87 



pier by two muscular-looking 
fellows. Before I could well 
collect my senses, the bell 
clanged noisily, the gang-plank 
was drawn up, and wath in- 
creasing speed we left the jetty. 
I could make out a number 
of people seemingly struggling 
with some one under the 




brightly gleaming electric lights, 
and I fancied I heard a scream; 
but in less time than it takes to 
read this we had passed beyond 



the end of the jetty, with its final 
red and green Hghts, and were 
on our way across the Channel. 
In looking over the papers at 
breakfast one morning several 
days after my arrival in London, 
I came upon the following : 

LUCKY CAPTURE 
On Wednesday night last, as the ex- 
press-boat from Boulogne for Folke- 
stone was about to leave the jetty, 
a person of singular aspect was ob- 
served by the officers acting in a 
manner fitted to arouse suspicion. 
He was seen to scrutinize the faces 
of the passengers, and finally to follow 
a gentleman on board the steamer, 
where he secreted himself in a dark 
passageway, from which he leaped 
upon the back of the unsuspecting 
traveler and attempted to strangle 
him. Doubtless he would have suc- 
ceeded in his murderous purpose, but 
for the vigilance of the " sergeant de 
ville," who promptly called assis- 
tance, and after a severe struggle 
with the assassin, who seemed to be 
possessed of herculean strength, suc- 
ceeded in placing the nippers upon 
him. Taken before the police, he was 
unable to give an account of himself. 



and acted in a very violent manner. 
It is thought that the author of many 
mysterious crimes has at length been 
secured. 

Later. — The individual captured 
on the Boulogne boat on Wednesday 
proves to be a certain exalted per- 
sonage of unsound mind who made 
his escape from a private *' maison 
de sante" at The Hague. The ser- 
geant de ville has been handsomely 
rewarded for making the capture of 
the unfortunate, who, in company 
with four keepers, left for The Hague 
this morning. 




90 



A FtTE DAY AND 

EVENING IN A DUTCH 

TOWN 



A F^TE DAY AND 

EVENING IN A DUTCH 

TOWN 

Curious clattering noises, 
exclamations, the stamping of 
horses' feet on the cobblestones, 
the hum of a large crowd, 
salute one's ears eariy in the 
morning; a jangle of silvery- 
toned bells from the cathedral, 
then the clock striking seven 
on the bourdon, and the fete 
has begun. From the window 
one sees women with curi- 
ous head-gear, silver-and-gold 
skull-caps covered with lace, 
from Friesland, Alkmaar, Mon- 
nikendam, Middelkirk, and 
Maarken, — caps with pinned- 
up lappets and all manner of 
queer ornaments dangling from 
either side of the temples, — 
gold twisted wire, diamond 

93 



sparks, forehead 
coral beads, — the enormous 
winged caps of musHn from 
Leyden and beyond, and, pret- 
tiest of all, the orphan girls 
of Haarlem, who wear black 
skirts, snowy kerchiefs, and co- 
quettishly modest muslin caps, 
long white mittens, and short 
sleeves above the elbow, one 
of red, the other of dark blue ; 
they wear no bonnets winter or 
summer. They are bound for 
the Kerk; let us follow. The 
sound of the cathedral organ 
reaches us even in the market- 
place. Inside, the church is 
large, gloomy, and bare to ugli- 
ness, almost; the whitewashed 
walls gleam mysteriously in the 
early light. A few women are 
seated in the center on com- 
mon wooden rush-bottomed 
chairs with high backs, and a 
scattering of men are in the 
carved penthouse pews that 
line the walls. A melancholy 



cautiqiie or so, a sliort evangile^ 
a long prayer delivered in a 
half-hearted way by a cadav- 
erous black- gowned minister, 
and a sermon ends the service. 
Then the collection is taken 




up by two portly Heers with 
black velvet nightcap-looking 
bags on the end of long poles ; 
and the congregation files 
slowly out into the market- 
place. Here long lines of 
booths have been erected, con- 

95 



taining almost everything under 
the sun, one would say ; and in 
the square, munching hay and 
oats from the tails of the tilted 
carts, are mighty hollow-backed 
Flemish horses whose heads 
are bristling with immense 
crimson tassels. A band is 
playing in a gaudy kiosk, and 
some of the peasants are dan- 
cing. Here and there are 
crowds about some one or an- 
other of the booths, listening to 
the chaffering and the smart 
sayings of a cheap John who 
is busily swindling the gullible 
with gaudy yellow chains of 
bogus metal, with a watch 
thrown in for luck. Dutch 
stolidity and phlegm there is, 
but also much good humor and 
cheerfulness. All manner of 
little peasant gigs, and farmers* 
hooded chaises perched up high 
in the air upon springs, the 
latter from the fenlands of the 
dried lake, are rapidly arriving 



and adding their burdens to 
the throng. Some of the horses 
are quite handsome. In a field 
beyond a tent is pitched, and 
there is a pigeon-match going 
on for prizes which are, how- 
ever, seldom won. Here comes 
a procession of a dozen or more 
little yellow and green var- 
nished gigs filled with rosy- 
cheeked peasant girls, the flaps 
of their snowy caps bobbing 
up and down with the motion 
of the horses, — and all scream- 
ing and giggling in anticipation 
of the pleasures of the day. 
A wedding, some one near me 
explains, and points out the 
emblematic orange horse-cloth 
hanging behind the first gig, in 
which a young man in a brim- 
less silk hat and a scarlet vest, 
and a charming young girl in 
a Maarken head-dress, with two 
long yellow curls hanging 
down each side of her rosy 
cheeks, are sitting side by side. 



Each man drives sitting on tlie 
left side with his rii^ht arm 




about his maiden's waist, who 
is busily throwing bonbons at 



the crowd. The parents follow- 
in fours in huge yellow chaises 
shaped like poke-bonnet covers, 
with glass sides; these are 
only for the married people. 
No unmarried peasant, youth 
or maid, ventures to drive in 
these covered tilburies. The 
procession drives on to the 
Koffij Hids, where they descend 
and partake of Poffertije and 
Persico, the latter a drink in 
which pounded peach-kernels 
are the chief ingredient. The 
crowd parts for the passage of 
an Aa?ispmaker, a tall strange 
figure dressed in lugubrious 
black small-clothes and silver- 
buckled shoes, black deep- 
flapped coat and waistcoat, 
his head crowned by a three- 
cornered hat and long weepers. 
He is the death- announcer, and 
is on his way to announce the 
death of some one to the friends 
of the family. Before a door 
hangs a curious square of lace, 

100 



in the center of which is a coat 
of arms. It is called a Klopper, 
and it announces a birth. My 
friend, the Yonkheer, explains 




that when the Spaniards took 
Haarlem after the famous 
siege, they sent notice that all 
houses wherein lay a mother 



and a new-born babe should 
have the knocker of the door 
muffled in white for a period, 
and so escape sacking — all 
births being thenceforward cele- 
brated by what has now become 
an ornament on the doors, lined 
with white for a girl, and with 
pink for a boy. My friend, the 
Yonkheer, is everywhere ad- 
dressed simply as Heer. The 
Dutch are very modest as to 
titles, and rarely address those 
who bear them save as Heer 
or Mynheer. Every one knows 
that they are barons or counts, 
so it would be thought snob- 
bish to call them so. Charming 
simplicity ! 

As the wedding-party is 
bound for the neighboring 
village, where the ceremony is 
to take place, and as the wel- 
come extended to my friend, 
the Yonkheer, includes myself, 
we mount a high-backed til- 
bury behind a hollow-backed 



decorated horse, driven by a 
short- waistcoated, opera- hatted 
individual covered with rib- 
bons, and speedily the long 




procession of tilburies of which 
we are part leaves the noisy 
market-place behind and gains 
the open highway. Outside the 

103 



town the land is green, with 
pollards on its leas, long beds 
of waving river-grass along the 
miles of canals, mowed here and 
there, and with huge stacks for 
thatching purposes, — bright 
httle cottages with red-tiled 
roofs, an occasional windmill 
lazily pumping water from one 
level to another. Small children 
in tight caps and shining brass- 
tipped sabots clatter along. Pea- 
sants pass yoked and laden 
with enormous brass milk-cans. 
Along raised dikes, grass-bor- 
dered and ankle deep in dust, 
turning out now and then for one 
of those long green straw-lined 
carts pulled by pairs of dappled 
sleek horses, move carts with 
the carven rail lilted up behind 
and the short gilt prow in front, 
by means of which Jan or Nik- 
olaas guides its way to this 
side or that. Now we come to 
little white houses nestling be- 
neath enormous overhanging 

104 



windmills, and now we cross an 
arm-upraised bridge, and the 
sea seems to close in upon us on 
either hand. Black and white 
cattle grazing b)^ the roadside 
gaze at us stolidly — the catde 
that Cuyp painted in the very 
pastures he loved. And now 




•.y^- 



■i. . 



the head of the procession halts 
before a house of some preten- 
sions, set back among the trees. 
There is an absurd little 
attempt at a drawbridge over a 
twenty-four-inch moat, which 
one must cross. Then appears 

105 



a lawn, perfectly flat, of course, 
but with some fine trees and a 
tiny piece of brownish water, 
presided over by a pseudo- 
classic temple bearing the extra- 
ordinary inscription : " Lust in 
Rust." Every country house is 
sure to have such a piece of 
water and a similar temple 
where the host may enjoy his 
" Rust." We are welcomed at 
the door by the host and his 
portly dame, who, above her 
lovely lace cap with its pendant 
ornaments, has perched a Pa- 
risian monstrosity of a bonnet. 
We enter beneath arches of 
green and flags, and are re- 
ceived in a room where are ex- 
posed the presents of silver and 
gold and fine linen — chests of 
thelatter! — and the groom offers 
us each a gilded pipe of clay, 
which it were a deadly insult 
to refuse. It is an old custom 
of which few know the origin. 
The room is a curious sight to 

106 



an Amencan, savoring, as it 
does, of a room in the Cluny 
museum, — with its noble and 
massive walnut press, in which 
are the family linen and silver. 




two old spinning-wheels and 
some furniture from Maarken, 
of great age and painted gau- 
dily with biblical scenes ; foot- 
stoves, which are still used, with 
a dish of hot embers placed in- 



side, from which the hot air 
escapes through a myriad of 
small holes in the brass sides 
and top. The walls are gHsten- 
ing with tiles and brightly- 
burnished brass and copper 
utensils of strange shapes, and 
there is a huge mahogany bucket 
lined with brass, containing em- 
bers, over which is placed a 
brass kettle, and which ahvays 
is to be found beside every well- 
regulated Dutch breakfast- and 
tea-table (this kettle-bucket is 
one of the most characteristic 
objects one sees in Holland), 
and beside it a rack upon which 
hang the egg-lifters of solid 
silver. The kettle-bucket usually 
bears an inscription such as 
Viel Plaisir (Much pleasure). 

The dinner was an interesting 
one to me, because of the pe- 
culiarly Dutch dishes served. 
It began with potato puree, 
flavored Avith cinnamon and 
containing balls of forcemeat. 



followed by water-bass from the 
canal: this is esteemed as a 




national delicacy, and is eaten 
with thin slices of rye bread. 

109 



Next came roast veal, with a 
curious sauce tasting of cinna- 
mon; for vegetables we had 
potatoes cooked with butter, 
boiled endives, and bread- 
crumbed cabbage; then par- 
tridge, followed by Hqueurs, 
such as cognac and aniseed, or 
a fine quality of Genei're, as the 
gin is politely called here. Des- 
sert is always served in another 
room, where we join the ladies 
and partake of coffee served in 
the tiniest and most precious of 
old Japanese handleless cups of 
blue china with silver rims. 

Then the mahogany peat- 
bucket and its attendant kettle 
are brought in by the servant, 
and the peat-box filled for the 
ladies' cheering-cup. The con- 
versation is upon the last French 
novel, — for these people are 
great readers, and the language 
is as often French as Dutch, — of 
the races at The Hague, or on 
the comm^ chasse with sporting 

110 



dogs on the dunes. And so the 
evening passes at this typical 
Dutch country house until it is 
time to say good night. The 
last of the peasants have gone 
long since, the candles in the 
illuminations are going out and' 




dripping grease upon the flag- 
ging, and as our good nights 
are being said, the frogs under 
the temple of the " Lust in 
Rust" are comfortably croaking. 
The horses are hitched again 
to the high-backed tilbury; we 
111 



mount, the Yonkheer and I, and 
rattle across the absurd draw- 
bridge, shining in the moonHght, 




on our way back to town; while 
upstairs, in that charming room 
with its shining brass and gleam- 

112 



ing china treasures, is J^ifrow 
washing her j:)riceless cups and 
saucers, and replacing them in 
their satin-lined glass-case on 
the armoire. 




113 



H 87-79 












°o 







V 







pB^ N. MANCHESTER, 
^^ INDIANA 46962 




